


When the Wolf Cries

by kandacek (firefly63)



Series: Sentinel Missing Scenes [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly63/pseuds/kandacek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one of many AU endings for the infamous Sentinel Too Pt 1 episode. My take was just a little bit different than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Wolf Cries

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** While this was my third post on the net back in '98, it's the first Sentinel story I started. The idea for this was born after Susan L. Williams filled me in on what happened with the season finale. I hadn't seen it, in fact I'd missed it by about three days. At that point I'd only been viewing 'The Sentinel' religiously since about June of that year. From another fiction list I was on I had heard of 'The Sentinel', and had even tried watching a couple of times, but since I was coming into it in the middle, I didn't really get hooked. Then one day, back in late May, I was searching the net for fan fiction, specifically 'Forever Knight', when I came across a category for 'The Sentinel'. Out of curiosity, I went to it. I think Yahoo listed about four options. At random, I picked one. It turned out to be the link to Susan L. Williams' page. I read "The Devil You Know" and "Masks", and was very impressed by how well written they were. For once, I decided to give an author some feedback. I wrote to her, and she and I have been corresponding ever since. A great big cyber hug, Susan! You've been absolutely wonderful.
> 
>  **Acknowledgements:** Again, I wish to thank HMG herself for betaing this for me. She helped me get back into writing after a very long hiatus. And, always, to my friend Barbara who's amused by my flights of fancy and tends to join me in them without complaint. Thanks!
> 
>  **Warnings/Rating:** Rated PG-13 for a few bad words and a modicum of violence. Conclusion to Sentinel, Too. THIS IS NOT A DEATH STORY.

Original Post 9-22-98 on http://www.skeeter63.org/kandacek

* * *

"NOOOOooooo!!!" Jim screamed, straining against the hands that held him. Slowly the sound died in his throat, though an echo continued to reverberate inside his head. He stared down at the still, lifeless face of his Guide...his partner...his _friend_! His world had just come to a crashing end, all because he'd felt... _what?_ Betrayed? Jealous? Threatened? His gaze eventually swiveled to his captain, one of the people whose hands held him. 

Simon met his eyes. Jim caught the nearly imperceptible shiver, and he imagined his expression. Cold, cruel, calculating; the look of a man trained to kill, a man who had been part of the Army's Covert Operations. Within seconds the ice melted, and was replaced with a bleak and unutterable grief. 

"Jim--" Simon began, but stopped when Jim shook his head. 

His jaw muscles clenching and unclenching, he quietly requested, "Simon, let--let me be alone with him for a moment." 

Banks studied his face for a long moment. Finally, with a soft, sad sigh, the bigger man nodded, and motioned the paramedics to move aside. Jim flashed his friend and captain a look of gratitude, gently shrugging off the hands holding him. 

Slowly, Jim went down on one knee beside his dead partner. Taking a couple of quick breaths to relax the sudden tightening in his throat, ignoring the stinging in his eyes, he looked into the still face. The once expressive visage was now simply serene. No laughter, no frown, no brow creased with worry, nothing. Hesitantly, the big man raised a hand to lay it on Blair's unmoving chest. 

A vision flashed before his eyes. The wolf! The animal's blue-gold orbs were looking at him in entreaty. Then it was gone. The image almost undid him. Jim's breath caught in his throat for a moment; with effort, he remembered to breathe. Pushing through the shock and grief, the Sentinel forced himself to focus on his Guide. Opening his hearing wide, on the verge of a zone-out, he listened. He listened intently. But no, nothing, not even the hint of a heartbeat. Reluctantly, he turned down his hearing, but his hand remained on the smaller man's chest. 

"Sandburg," he whispered. "I--I'm sorry. Why? _Why_ did we...Why did _I_ let it go this far? I should never have doubted you. I'm sorry, Chief. I'm sorry. I failed you. Me and my stupid, stupid pigheadedness. I promise you, I will bring Alex to justice. I promise you." With this last, Jim took a deep breath and opened all of his senses, focusing on Blair. In some small way, he wanted to drink in and remember any last remnants of his partner's essence, his spirit. The wolf flashed before him again. This time there was an expectant look and a hint of an encouraging smile on the lupine face, just as his olfactory sense registered an odd smell. It didn't belong somehow, but it refused immediate identification. It was temporarily forgotten as his head exploded with the sound of the campus clock beginning to chime the hour. Jolted by the sudden pain and ringing in his ears, the Sentinel managed to grab his internal dials and turn down everything without reeling back. After another moment to compose himself, still trying to shake off the aftereffects, he got to his feet. "Good bye, buddy," he breathed, then silently turned back to Simon. 

The captain nodded the okay to the ambulance attendants, and they moved forward to take care of the body. Jim's gaze was distant, staring through rather than at Simon. After a moment, Megan came up and put an arm around his waist. Almost unconsciously one of his arms encircled her shoulders, accepting the small comfort she was offering. Simon too, moved forward, lifting a hand to grip his shoulder. 

Minutes went by as they stood that way. Together, they turned and watched as the gurney holding Blair's body was loaded into the ambulance. The doors were shut, and the attendants climbed back in the cab and drove away, lights flashing, but no siren. 

Another full minute passed before Captain Banks said quietly, "Jim, go home. Take the rest of the day off. Wait 'til morning to come in and fill out the report." 

Jim turned an icy gaze on Simon. "Go home to what, sir? There's nothing for me to go home to. I threw Sandburg out, remember? Threw him out without so much as a--a--Damn! I didn't understand what was happening to me. Happening to the world I knew. Instead of trusting Blair, I turned my back on him. Completely and utterly shut him out. Hell, I even told him I didn't trust him! When he wasn't even at fault. For any of it. Damn! Damn!" Jim paused a moment. Shaking his head emphatically, he said, "No, sir, I have to find that woman. She killed Sandburg. She's responsible for all of this." 

The captain squeezed his shoulder a little harder, conveying sympathy and understanding, but his words were firm, brooking no argument. "Tomorrow, Jim. Tomorrow will be soon enough to get back on her trail. I have a feeling she's not done here yet, and I think you _know_ she's not." 

Ellison was preparing to protest, but these words stopped him. Looking deep into the dark, concerned eyes, Jim saw the understanding there, the determination to let him continue on the case, just not right now. The captain was right. If the detective didn't know it, the Sentinel did...now. A challenge had been issued, and first blood had been drawn. The first three rounds had gone to this strange sentinel before he'd even understood there had been a challenge, but now he was determined to end it with a KO to this stranger who had moved into his territory. As he glanced back at the fountain where he'd found Sandburg's body, black despair descended on him once more. He nodded acceptance of Simon's implied order, then began to turn away. 

"Jim," Megan called, "do you want me to drive you?" 

He stopped, shaking his head, saying, "No, I just want to be alone." With that, he walked away. 

Jim could feel their concerned gazes on his back, but he didn't care. He was simply numb. "What do you think he's gonna do?" He heard Megan ask. 

"I don't know," was the captain's answer. Sentinel-soft, he heard Simon's encouragement. "Go home, Jim. Take time to regroup and come back stronger." A tiny smiled pulled at the corner of his mouth. Absently, he listened to their conversation, as he continued toward the truck. "Hopefully, he'll go home and rest. He's been completely out of sorts lately. But, with that man, I don't know. I don't think I ever really did. Only Sandburg s--seemed able to predict that. Usually." 

"Yeah. Jim's been weird lately," Megan commented. "Ever since he got winged a couple of weeks ago. That's when this all started." 

Jim stopped in front of his truck, stiffening. _'Ever since he got winged a couple of weeks ago. That's when this all started.' She's right! It did start then. That's when I first saw the jaguar. Damn!_ He turned back toward the fountain, the spot where he had found his partner. He didn't move from the front of his truck, but he cast his vision out toward the area, looking for any clues to his partner's assassin. He found nothing but a bit of spotted cloth. Growling to himself, he turned and got in the truck. He was dialing Simon's cell phone even before he'd entirely backed out of the space. 

Jim leaned against the jamb of the French doors. Taking another pull from the half empty beer he held in his hand, he gazed around the room. Sandburg's room. He was staring, not at the empty space it was now, but at the cozy, cluttered furnishings that had recently occupied it. He saw the futon bed with its brown comforter depicting tribal figures, the small night table beside it, the desk cluttered with texts and notebooks, the shelves filled with more books, and myriad artifacts that had hung on the wall or reposed on shelves. 

Blair. 

Closing his eyes, he raised the bottle to rub its damp coolness against his temple, hoping it would ease the headache, knowing it wouldn't. Now his mind's eye showed him Blair, smiling mischievously while Jim laughed at something the young man had done or said. They had been comfortable together. They'd shared so many good times, bad times, and in-between times. What had gone wrong? The young anthropology student had seemed so off the wall at first, but from the very first time he'd allowed himself to listen and _do_ what the kid said about getting his hyperactive senses under control, he'd felt the respect begin. What had gone wrong? Their association had quickly grown into more respect, gradually into friendship. He knew he'd been hard, almost impossible to get along with, but the young man had stayed. Even that act of--bravery, dogged determination--in the face of someone who was slowly going mad and who didn't think he wanted or needed any help had gained the University student respect. What had gone wrong? He hadn't known when it happened, but one day he'd begun calling the kid his partner, and he'd meant it. Even he could admit that Sandburg had been the best thing to come into his life, and he had never wanted to give that up. What had gone wrong? 

What had gone wrong was he'd suddenly and inexplicably had a fit of paranoia. Unable to even stand the company of the one person whose life was so intermeshed with his, the one person who understood him and his heightened senses, his brother, his Guide, he'd thrown him out. It didn't help that the following day, he'd moved _everything_ out of the loft to get more space, not just Blair. He knew Sandburg had tried to talk to him, had tried to _guide_ him, but Ellison could tolerate none of it. 

Opening his eyes again, Jim gazed once more on the cozy furnishings of a life that had been meshed with his. His eyes burned and he brought his empty hand up to rub at them, finding tears. Inhaling deeply, slowly letting the breath out, he began to turn away. 

The wolf was there, lying on Blair's bed. The animal was staring at him expectantly, though the eyes held a hint of sad disappointment. Then, unbelievably, the bushy tail began to thump softly against the mattress. 

Jim started, inhaling sharply. The phone rang again. Exhaling, he rubbed a hand over his face, glancing back into the bedroom. The wolf was gone. Everything was gone. It was once more just an empty space. The phone rang insistently. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face again, absently noting as he moved toward the phone that it was dark outside. He had been standing in that doorway for several hours. 

He grabbed the receiver just as it rang again. "Ellison." 

"Jim?" came Banks' voice on the other end. 

"Hello, Simon." 

"Jim, I...uh..." the captain began. 

To the Sentinel's ear he sounded uncomfortable, and not just with worry about his detective friend. 

"What's wrong, Captain? I'm fine, if that's what you're calling about." _Fine as a man who just lost a major part of himself can be anyway._

"Jim--Ah, hell, Jim, Sandburg's body is gone," Simon informed him shortly. 

"What?! What do you mean, 'gone'?!" 

"I mean, when the M.E. went to get the body out of the cooler to do the autopsy, it was gone. Vanished. They looked in all the compartments. Nothing. He's just gone." 

"Could the ambulance have taken it elsewhere?" Jim questioned, turning to look back through the open doors into Blair's now empty room. For a fleeting instant he thought he saw the gray fur of a wolf. 

"No, Dan checked the body when it was brought in and put it in the cooler himself." 

Silence for a moment, then a whispered, "Damn." 

"I'm on my way over there now," Banks said. "Jim, I--"

"I'll meet you there, Simon." 

There was a slight pause as he heard the soft sigh, then the captain said, "All right, Jim. See you in a few minutes." 

Jim hung up the phone, his jaw muscles clenching as he considered this outrageous event. Slamming the now empty beer on the counter, he moved toward the door, grabbing up keys and coat in virtually one motion. Quickly shrugging into the jacket, he locked the door behind him and ran down the stairs. 

"What do we have, sir?" Jim inquired fifteen minutes later, as he wended his way through the few uniformed officers interviewing the staff. 

Simon turned from watching Cassie, the chief of forensics, dust the open cube door for prints and looked up as the detective joined him. An unlit cigar temporarily forgotten in his hand, he shook his head. "Not much, so far." Continuing in exasperation, "No one _heard_ anything. No one _saw_ anything. Zilch. The body has just vanished, seemingly without a trace." 

Ellison nodded, saying nothing, though the tell-tale jaw muscles were at work again. Looking around the cold, sterile room, he thought, _Sandburg, how is it you manage to get yourself kidnapped even when you're dead? Unless...._ He froze, raising his head slightly, sniffing. 

Simon caught the familiar, intent look and quickly glanced around for any observers before moving closer to the other man. "Jim? What is it?" he whispered, now noticing the detective's balled fists and tense shoulders. 

"She was here!" the Sentinel hissed softly. "Alex took Sandburg's body," he said with conviction. 

Banks looked doubtful. "Why would she do that?" 

Jim shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir, but I'm positive she took him." Leaning a little nearer to Simon, he lowered his voice. "There're lingering traces of her scent here. I'd say no more than six hours old." 

The captain straightened, meeting Ellison's earnest gaze with concern. "I repeat, why would she take the body? She's already killed him, what more could she want with him?" 

Jim didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped away from Banks, beginning to make a slow circuit of the room. Using his enhanced sight and smell, and ignoring Cassie's curious stare, he searched for any additional clues. He found nothing but the fingerprints that had already been dusted, and for a moment the Sentinel wished for his Guide to help him go deeper. Then, with an icy chill, he remembered. He no longer had that part of himself. 

Bowing his head and shutting his eyes tightly, the big man contained the moan welling up in his throat as he struggled with his guilt and despair. Slowly, he became aware of Simon's gentle, firm grip on his elbow. Sighing softly, he opened his eyes and lifted his head. 

"Jim?" 

Ellison waved the captain's concern aside. "I'm all right," he said quietly. He was now facing the open compartment where Sandburg's body had temporarily been stored. Absently, he began to scan it. "The obvious answer to 'why' is, to hurt me further." 

It took Banks a moment to remember the question he'd asked, then he gazed at his friend, somewhat bemused. "I'm not sure I follow," he prompted, noting 'that' look on Jim's face again. 

"Think about it, sir. All along she's been toying with me. Taunting me. Always one step ahead of me. She knew k--killing Blair would hurt me, and flaunt the fact she had the upper hand. She also knew that taking his body would only add to my anguish." Jim paused, his jaw muscles bunching in anger. "Oh, yes, that bitch has been playing me like a sport fish on a line...and Sandburg too." He stopped speaking, his brain carefully reviewing the events of the last few days, but especially the last few hours. 

Simon had been listening intently as the detective explained his perceptions, his expression going from grim to grimmer. When the other man fell silent, he let him alone for a moment, watching the stony visage. Finally, he demanded quietly, "Jim, what is it? What are you thinking?" 

Ellison tore his eyes from the open compartment he'd inadvertently zeroed in on, and looked at the captain. Casting a glance at the surreptitiously staring forensics chief, he turned and strode from the room. Banks followed, wondering what his friend was thinking. 

Jim stopped in the hall, out of ear shot from anyone else. He turned and waited as Simon came up beside him. "There's one other thing that Alex could do that would destroy me." 

Gazing at the detective speculatively, Simon cautiously inquired, "What's that?" 

"Make my Guide her own," the Sentinel replied solemnly. 

The captain blinked, nonplussed by this response. "Uh, Jim, how's she gonna do that? I really hate to remind you, but the man is dead." 

Jim shook his head. "What if he isn't, sir? What if Sandburg is still alive?" 

Banks was completely speechless for a moment, stunned by the audacity of that statement. He groaned. "Jim, man, don't go there. Please, just don't go there." 

"Please, sir, just hear me out," Ellison replied calmly. 

As if to add conviction to his wild-sounding theory, the wolf appeared behind Simon, grinning, its tail wagging encouragingly, though its gaze was cautious. 

The captain continued to stare at his friend for a long moment, seeing nothing in those ice-blue eyes but quiet seriousness. Those eyes had drifted from his, looking past his shoulder. He turned to see what Ellison was staring at, but saw nothing. Turning back, he grew a touch concerned when he noticed a faint smile on Jim's lips, but the man was still somewhat distracted. 

Figuring--hoping--this was another Sentinel thing, Simon reached a reluctant decision. He sighed quietly, and mentally crossed his fingers. "All right, Jim. I'm listening." 

Jim blinked, and returned his gaze to the bigger man's. 

"What if she drugged Blair in such a way as to make him clinically dead, even to my senses?" 

Banks pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jim, you're not making any sense. Drugs? What are you talking about?" 

Jim shook his head. "On the contrary, Simon, it's beginning to make perfect sense," he said emphatically. Seeing his captain's still skeptical--and worried-expression, his jaw clenched in frustration. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a little. When he continued, his voice was low. "There are drugs-methods-to make a person look clinically dead. All the methods I know of require an antidote within a few hours. And I'm just now realizing what that odd smell must have been." 

The other man still looked somewhat skeptical, but Ellison could tell that he had relaxed, beginning to digest what he was being told. 

Jim continued, presenting the facts rationally. "Here's what we know so far." The detective held up a hand, beginning to tick off points on his fingers. "One, a strange sentinel breezes into town. I unknowingly get sent into a tailspin because of it. If I somehow sensed her, it's a sure bet she sensed me too. Two, either by chance or design, she gets herself arrested. Blair hears what happened. Being the person he is, he offers to help get her senses under control. When he tries to tell me about her, I'm so agitated I refuse to listen to him. When I go to talk to him at the University, I sense Alex's presence with him. Instead of talking to him, I leave. In another fit of paranoia, I pack up his things and tell him to get out when he gets home. Still feeling agitated, I pack up my own things and move them out of the loft. It isn't until this that either Blair or I figure out there's something wrong on the Sentinel front, not with our relationship. We figure out the strange sentinel he's been helping and the thief I've been after are one and the same person. Again, I become irrational, and shut him out. Three, Alex calls and taunts me, daring me to come after her. Of course, I do, though now I'm not sure if it was Ellison the cop going after a thief, or Ellison the Sentinel out to protect his territory." 

Jim noted the surprise on Banks' face, but simply nodded grimly and continued. "Four, she goes after Sandburg. Five, she steals his body from the morgue, _before_ the autopsy." 

The stress on the word 'before' caught Simon's attention and his eyes widened as he stared back at his friend. 

The detective watched as his captain's expression slowly changed from skepticism to grudging belief. Abruptly, the other man's shoulders sagged and he shook his head in dismay. "Oh, God," he groaned. 

Silence reigned for several moments. Finally, heaving a large, tired-sounding sigh, Banks asked, "Okay, so you're telling me this whole thing has been a turf war between sentinels?" 

Reluctantly, Jim nodded. "It sounds pretty childish, doesn't it, sir?" 

"No, it sounds pretty primitive, actually." 

Again, Jim nodded. "You know when we told you about my heightened senses, how Sandburg explained it was because I was genetically predisposed to being a sentinel?" At Simon's affirmative, he continued. "Blair told me then, that each tribe usually had only one sentinel. The reason, he said, was because sentinels were very protective and territorial of their chosen ground. I didn't put much stock in it at the time. I mean, yeah, in the remote jungles of the world, but this is Cascade. I can only guard so much. Well, I think we all know my protective streak is a mile wide." 

Simon smiled, nodding in agreement. 

"It appears my territoriality rivals my protectiveness," the Sentinel admitted. "I didn't realize any of this until it was too late to do much other than react, and then I didn't know the stakes were so high." Seeing, the other's questioning look, he clarified. "Sandburg, sir. She wanted my Guide." 

"You think she planned this from the very beginning?" Banks asked incredulously. 

The detective shook his head. "No, not at first. I think she was a thief and a murderer, aware of her edge. When she met Blair, a whole new range of possibilities presented themselves, and she was quick to take advantage of them. I think, as soon as she became aware of me and what Blair represented in the scheme of things, she set about driving a wedge between us. She almost succeeded, too. Only, we kept coming back together, trying to work through the problem." Jim stopped speaking for a moment, his face going pale. He suddenly sagged back against the wall, his eyes reflecting horror. "Oh, God. What have I done?" he whispered. 

"Jim? What's wrong?" 

"Captain--sir, it just hit me." Jim's voice was rough with emotion. "Alex wouldn't have had to use this elaborate charade if Sandburg had had any intention of betraying me-of abandoning me." 

"Didn't I try telling you Sandburg was too loyal to you?" the taller man replied quietly, and with no hint of his usual gruffness. 

Ellison closed his eyes and gently beat his head against the wall. "I have been so stupid. So utterly blind." Faintly, the Sentinel heard the lone, triumphant cry of the wolf. When he opened his eyes, the animal was there. The blue-gold gaze was no longer cautious, but full of joy, hope, and encouragement. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth in an unmistakable grin. Jim shut his eyes again, briefly, a faint smile touching his lips. _I hear you, buddy. I finally hear you. I'll get you back._

"So, what now?" Banks interrupted his thoughts. 

Opening his eyes, and straightening up, Jim looked at his captain. "We catch ourselves a thief and a murderer." 

"Jim, man, this woman has gotten the drop on you before! She's a sentinel, just like you, how are you going to get near her?" Simon questioned almost heatedly. 

"I should resent that, sir," the detective replied, gazing back at his commanding officer. 

They had returned to the station, and Simon's office to map out some sort of strategy for tracking down their very elusive prey. Jim had the distinct feeling that time was rapidly slipping away, and they were going to have to move quickly if there was any hope of catching Alex. 

"She may be a sentinel, but she is not like me." 

Banks held up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry, Jim. You know I didn't mean it that way. But it is a valid concern, isn't it?" 

"Yes, but one I've taken into consideration. She has the five heightened senses, and the cunning and ruthlessness of a cold-blooded killer. I, however, have the experience using them, she doesn't. Now that I know the score, and no longer have blinders on, I can take her down." 

"You're _not_ , I repeat, _not_ going after her alone! Do you understand me, Jim?" 

The other man nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir, I understand, but I had no intention of going in alone." 

"You didn't? That was easy. Why not?" Simon asked suspiciously. 

"Well, sir, I figured you would be my backup. And then there's Sandburg," Jim replied matter-of-factly. 

"We don't even know what shape Sandburg's in, much less whether or not he's coherent," the captain answered, meeting those ice-blue eyes for a moment. 

Ellison said nothing. 

Sighing, Banks said, "All right, what do we have? Where do you propose we start looking for this-woman?" 

Jim shifted his weight slightly where he leaned against the end of the conference table. He'd let his gaze drift out the window. Pulling it away, he looked back at the captain. "She'll need help reviving him. Somewhere with medical facilities." 

Simon looked thoughtful. "Well, I think we can safely assume it won't be a hospital." 

The detective shook his head in agreement. "Maybe a free clinic?" 

"Let's go from another angle for a moment. Would she have had time to 'buy' the services of someone? Maybe set up her own little private lab?" 

Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. "I know she's been in Cascade for at least a couple of weeks. Blair met her while I was recuperating from that shot to the arm. So, it is possible she could have arranged everything, but somehow I don't think this was totally premeditated. I think she definitely intends to kill him-permanently, when she thinks she has everything she needs from him, but I also think she'd originally planned to either seduce or kidnap him. Faking his death probably came later in the game, after she failed the seduction and maybe decided kidnapping would bring too much attention." 

"Sounds reasonable. So we concentrate our attention on the free clinics around town. Only about a hundred or so. Of course, there're also the back alley clinics we don't know about," Simon said, unenthusiastically. 

When silence greeted him, he looked up to see Jim gazing out into the night again. 

"Jim?" 

Another moment passed. Still staring out the window, Ellison replied, "You mentioned a lab, sir." His blue-eyed gaze swiveled back to his captain. "The Anth Lab at the University." 

Sentinel senses detected the loss of heat in the other man's face, as he stared back at him. 

"What are we waiting for? Let's go," Banks barked, bursting into a flurry of movement. Jim was right behind him as the two big men rushed from the office and toward the elevator. 

Just as the doors of the conveyance slid closed after them, a phone began to ring. A second later the doors opened again, and Ellison stepped out of the car. He peered into the bullpen as he listened to the ringing. Piggybacking his sight to the sound, he zeroed in on which phone. His. Glancing back at Simon with a raised eyebrow, he hurried back into the room. 

"Ellison." 

"Hello, Detective," a female voice practically purred. 

His jaw clenching in automatic reaction, Jim forced himself to take a deep breath. He answered with quietly controlled fury. "Alex." 

"I presume you've discovered my little theft of this evening?" 

"Yesss." 

The woman laughed in amusement. Her contralto voice, while not unpleasant, grated against the Sentinel's nerves. It was all he could do to keep from exploding. A firm hand gripped his shoulder. While not Blair's sensitive fingers, the touch was a welcome grounding. He turned his head to look into the steady gaze of his captain. "What have you done with him, Alex?" 

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." More amused laughter. "Other than kill him." 

The jaw muscles were doing a staccato dance along his cheek now. "Then why take his body?" 

"Because I'm not quite done with it." 

"Why aren't you done with it?" 

"You haven't suffered enough." 

"Why?" 

There was a pause. "You're a sentinel without a guide now. You figure it out." 

Something caught Jim's attention and he quickly focused his hearing. He heard a gasp of pain, and a faint grunt as flesh contacted flesh in a slap, then.... There! A heartbeat as familiar as his own. His eyes blazed with triumph as he stared back at Simon, though he betrayed no sound of his own. 

"Alex, where are you?" Ellison casually asked. 

"Nice try, Detective." The amusement was back in the woman's voice. "Don't worry. You and I will meet again. Soon." With another chuckle, the line was disconnected. 

Glancing at the receiver, Jim returned it to its cradle and turned his attention back to Simon. There was now a very faint quirk to his lips, though the jaw muscles still danced. 

"What is it, Jim? What did she say?" The bigger man dropped his hold on Ellison's shoulder and waited. 

"It's not really what she said, sir, it's what I heard. Sandburg _is_ alive! I heard his heartbeat." 

The captain looked skeptical, though also hopeful. "Are you sure, Jim? Are you sure it wasn't just _a_ heartbeat?" 

"It was his, sir. I know it as well as my own. I think he might have spoken, or tried to speak. Anyway, something caught my attention and my hearing focused. I heard a gasp, then a sound like a slap, then the heartbeat." 

Simon lifted an eyebrow, then nodded his head in acceptance. "Did you get any clues to her whereabouts?" 

Jim shook his head. "Not consciously, sir. Later I'll get the log tape and go over it again, but in the meantime, let's check out the lab." 

Nodding agreement, Banks stepped aside, allowing Jim to go ahead of him. Once again they headed for the elevator. 

When the elevator opened to the parking garage, the two men strode to Banks' car and got in. As soon as the captain pulled out into the street, he called Rainier University's security office. Despite the late hour, the night duty sergeant agreed to have two of his people at the Anthropology Lab when they arrived. 

Jim remained mostly silent during the ride. Twenty minutes later his companion pulled into a parking space near Hargrove Hall. The detective looked out onto the familiar grassy lawn and its fountain. Less than twelve hours before, he and Simon had found Sandburg's body floating in that fountain. He shuddered involuntarily at the images that flashed before his mind's eye. 

"Jim, you all right?" his captain asked. 

Closing his eyes against those unwanted images, the Sentinel suddenly heard the wolf's cry, and just under that, the growl of a jaguar. His jaguar. He felt a calmness settle over him, a feeling that had been lacking for more than two weeks. A faint smile touched his lips as he turned to look at Banks. 

"Yeah, Simon, I'm all right. Let's go have a look around that lab." With that, Ellison popped open his door and climbed out. Simon was right behind him. 

The two men quickly crossed the grass to the science building. As promised, two campus security guards were waiting for them at the entrance. As they approached, Banks whispered, "Do you sense anything?" 

"The guards and ours are the only heartbeats I detect in this immediate area." The Sentinel had no time to say anything further, as they had reached the two men waiting for them. 

"Captain Banks. Detective." One of the guards spoke in greeting. "I'm Ben Danvers, this is Kyle Jennings. How do you want to handle this?" 

"Danvers. Jennings. When was the last security check?" Simon inquired. 

"About twenty minutes ago, sir." 

"Did you see or hear anything out of place around the lab?" 

"No, sir. All was quiet and as it should be." 

"How often do you do sweeps around here?" 

"Every two hours." 

"Nothing unusual was reported?" 

Danvers shook his head. 

Jim caught Simon's questioning glance and simply shrugged. _It's the only thing we have at the moment._

"Okay. Are the labs kept locked?" the captain questioned. 

"Yes. I have the keys." 

"Good. All right, Detective Ellison and I will go first. You two follow. When I give the go ahead, you can unlock the door." 

The other two men nodded acceptance. "Captain? May I ask what we might be walking into?" 

Banks sighed. "We suspect a murderer might have used your Anthropology Lab." 

"A murderer, sir? Shouldn't we get more back up?" 

Simon shook his head. "We're just going to check it out. We don't know if this person is here for sure. I think she's probably gone by now, if she was here in the first place." His voiced dropped to nearly inaudible. "Besides, if she was here, she'd already know _we_ were." 

Jim caught his commander's eye, and nodded in agreement. 

Sighing again, Banks took out his pistol. "All right, let's get this show on the road." 

Ellison moved smoothly beside him and the two security guards brought up the rear. 

Cautiously they approached the designated door. The captain and detective took up positions on either side. Jim tuned his hearing up just slightly as Simon reached out to tap on the closed portal. Silence greeted him. He shook his head, indicating there was no sound. 

Banks motioned to the security men, and Danvers stepped forward with the key. When the door was unlocked he returned to Jennings' side and let the policemen take over again. 

In one quick motion, Simon turned the knob and threw open the door, leveling his gun. Ellison was right with him. The lab was dark. Relaxing his stance, the captain moved forward. Jim's eyesight quickly compensated for the lack of light, and he could already tell there was no one in the room. He flinched back when light suddenly flooded the space. "Sorry, Jim." He heard Simon's contrite whisper, and realized the other man had flipped on the switch. 

Still squinting, trying to get the dial turned down, Jim simply waved a hand, and stepped into the lab. As his eyes finished adjusting, his nostrils flared as a familiar scent assailed him. His knees threatened to turn to rubber, but he fought off the sensation. 

Mindful of the security guards, who remained in the doorway, Jim joined Simon in the lab's examination. At first glance, it appeared undisturbed. To someone like Ellison, trained to observe, it quickly became obvious this room had been recently used. Even without enhanced senses the detective noted the slightly mussed sheet on the gurney. 

The captain was kneeling beside the lab table, looking at something. Jim quickly joined him. Without him having to ask, Banks pointed to what he'd found. 

A syringe wrapper was caught under the wheel. Nodding, the detective glanced around. Spotting what he was looking for, he straightened and strode to the Hazardous Materials containers. He extracted a pair of vinyl gloves from his coat pocket, and pulled them on. Once in place, he carefully pushed open the lid on the sharps container. Peering inside, he spied three spent syringes. His jaw clenched and he had to fight back a sudden wave of nausea when the scent of Blair's blood hit his sensitive nostrils. Shaking his head in an effort to clear it of the sudden odor, Jim filtered out that smell, and turned his attention to the large, red trash can with the yellow hazmat symbol situated just beneath the sharps disposal. 

Looking inside this container, he saw a pair of surgical gloves, an empty IV bag, and several cotton balls. Eyeing the swabs, Jim zeroed in on one that had only a tiny speck of blood, and wasn't saturated with alcohol. He retrieved it. With his back to the guards, he cautiously sniffed it. At first all he could smell was Blair. Filtering that out with effort, he sniffed again. This time he detected the scent of another human. His jaw muscle twitched once. It wasn't Alex's. 

"Danvers," Ellison said, as the captain joined him, "are the labs cleaned every night?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Trash and hazmat are emptied?" 

"Yes." 

Jim nodded, then looked expectantly at Simon. The captain peered inside the containers in question, then raised his gaze to Jim's. 

"Blair?" 

Ellison nodded again. "His scent is all over in here. His blood is on those syringes. Besides Alex, I think I smell someone else too. And-the scent is less than two hours old." 

Banks frowned, then pulled out his cell phone and called for a forensics team. Meanwhile, Jim scanned the rest of the room. His eyes had just reached the gurney when his gaze caught, and locked on something unusual. Quickly moving to the table, he carefully plucked a single strand of dark hair from where it clung to the edge of the sheet-wrapped mattress. He knew, by the feel alone, that it was Blair's. Smell confirmed it. 

He'd just finished placing the hair in an evidence bag when Simon came up beside him. 

"Forensics are on their way. What'd you find?" 

For answer, Jim held up the plastic bag. Banks accepted it, and looked at the dark, wavy strand. 

"Damn. This just keeps getting more interesting." A heavy sigh punctuated the captain's statement. 

"Yeah." Ellison agreed softly, staring down at the gurney. _Oh, Chief. What must you be going through? What must you think of me now? Do you think I'll save you this time? Do you want me to?_

A flash of gray fur appeared in his peripheral vision, and he raised his eyes to meet the blue-gold gaze of the wolf. The animal was standing on its hind legs, while it rested its front paws on the table, looking at him. Finally, it lowered its head and poked its nose into the mattress. With bemused curiosity, Jim followed the wolf's snout to where it met the white sheet. 

Simon's voice distracted him. "Jim? You okay?" 

The detective nodded. He only glanced at his captain, but it was enough. The wolf was gone. However, almost of their own volition, Sentinel eyes were drawn to peculiar irregularities in the fabric. The same spot the animal had been snuffling. Apparently, he had the answer to his silent question, and he couldn't describe the sense of warm relief that flooded him. He moved even closer to the table, and peered harder. Yes, there they were. Almost invisible, even to enhanced sight, distinct markings had been left on the sheet. On a hunch, Jim removed one of his vinyl gloves, and touched the surface. Turning up the dial, he easily detected the pattern Blair had left for him. But what did it mean? 

He looked up at Simon, who was gazing at him questioningly, and a faint smile touched his lips. However, before he could answer that unasked question, the forensics team arrived. 

The next twenty minutes were spent directing their search and filling in the campus security guards on what was going on. Rafe and Brown were now present as well. Giving the two latest arrivals some final instructions, Simon left the scene to them and herded Ellison out the door. 

Jim followed the captain wordlessly. Simon waited until they were in the car to ask, "So, what was that? What did you find?" 

Raising a hand to rub tired eyes, Jim drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Sandburg left me a message." 

"A message? Are you sure?" 

The detective nodded. "I'm sure." 

Banks waited for elaboration. "Well?" 

"Hmm?" Jim gave him a distracted look. "Oh. Fish, sir. And what could be a spear." 

"What? Fish? Spear? Jim, man, you're not making any sense here." 

"Sandburg drew me a picture of a fish, and what was probably meant to be a fishing spear." 

"Drew a picture?" The captain's voice was incredulous. "And just how did he do this?" 

"He used something sharp, like a needle or something, and scratched a design in the sheet. It was nothing more than snagged threads, really, but..."

"...but enough for you to detect some kind of pattern," Simon finished. "What makes you so sure it was Sandburg and not Alex?" 

A slight smile quirked the corner of Jim's mouth. "Several reasons, Simon." _Not the least of which is that the wolf showed me._ "The markings are barely more than snags in the fabric. If I hadn't been looking for something-different-I probably wouldn't have seen them. It took time to make them, time I don't think Alex would have bothered with, plus she wouldn't know anything about the spear. Last, their position puts them right where Blair's left hand would have been while he lay on that gurney. 

"Okay, how do you suppose he would have done this?" 

Jim shook his head, his jaw muscle bouncing once. "That, I don't know. Maybe a needle, or even the buckle of his watch. Hell, even a paper clip. I don't know. But he _did_ do it." 

Simon pushed his glasses up with one hand and rubbed his own eyes. "So, do you know what it means?" 

The other man shrugged and shook his head slightly. "The only thing I can think he's referring to is our fishing trips." 

"He probably means the location of a fishing trip, but which one?" the Captain mused. "Somehow, I don't think she took him camping." 

Jim snorted. "No, I don't think camping was on her agenda. Maybe a cabin? In the woods?" 

Banks pursed his lips, nodding slightly. "Okay, I'll buy that, but where? There're hundreds of acres of forest, we couldn't hope to search all of it, even if we get the sheriff's cooperation." 

"She won't have gone far. You said it yourself. She's not done here yet. She wants to gloat. The scent in that room was fairly strong, meaning they couldn't have been gone long. She called me at the station before we left. It took us twenty minutes to get here. The guards were making their sweep about the time of her call, and detected nothing. Unless she took a chopper, she can't be more than fifty miles from here." 

Silence descended in the car. After a bit, Simon said, "I'll get Connor and Joel started on a search for cabin locations within a seventy-five mile radius. We'll concentrate on rentals and time-share properties. Anything else they should be looking for?" 

"Tell them to go back a couple of months on the rental records." 

"You think she's been here for a while?" 

Jim nodded. "I think she's at least been in the area a lot longer than two weeks. It doesn't excuse it, but it may explain some of my less than charming behavior toward Sandburg the past few months." 

"That sentinel territoriality thing?" 

"Yeah," came Jim's soft response. He lost himself in thought for a minute. Shaking the disturbing images out of his mind, he looked at his superior. "Listen, Simon, when we get back to the station, I'll start that search." 

"No, you're going to get some sleep, and if I know you, you won't get any if I send you home, so you're coming home with me." 

"Simon, I--"

"Jim, when was the last time you got any decent sleep? For that matter, any kind of sleep at all?" 

Jim shrugged noncommittally, opening his mouth to protest. 

"I thought so. You haven't had more than a few hours sleep at any given stretch since this whole thing began, have you?" 

"Simon, I'm--"

"Save it, Jim. You're coming home with me, and that's an order. You can sleep in Daryl's room." 

"Simon--"

The captain held up a hand. "Uh-uh." 

With a resigned sigh, Jim relaxed into the seat. "Can we at least go by the loft so I can get a change of clothes?" 

A satisfied smile graced Simon's lips as he reached out and turned the key in the ignition. 

The panther was waiting for him when he reached the clearing. There was something odd about the whole scene. The jungle seemed cooler, not as stifling. Then he realized he wasn't in the Peruvian jungle, but in a forest. There was something else not quite right. The black cat in front of him was lying on its side. It was making no move to get up, just staring at him with its yellow eyes. Finally, it morphed into the reflection of himself, in jungle gear. 

He stifled a gasp of horror. The apparition was missing an arm and a leg. The implications of that were not lost on him, though he had no time to process it, as his spirit guide began to question. 

"What do you seek?" 

He hated these cryptic questions. "I...uh..."

"What do you seek? Revenge?" 

"Justice," he answered truthfully. 

His reflection inclined his head, gazing calmly back at him. "And what of your Guide?" 

He swallowed. "I don't know," he whispered. 

The spirit continued to gaze at him, his expression becoming stern. "You accepted the gift and kept it, but you ripped the Guide from your side, his rightful place. You effectively crippled yourself." 

He bowed his head now, his shoulders sagging. "I didn't know. I didn't understand." 

"Does the Sentinel trust his Guide?" 

His eyes returned to the spirit's steady regard. "Yes." 

"Will you follow him?" 

"Yes." 

"Even when he appears to be leading another?" 

He cringed slightly, but nodded his head. "Yes." 

"Then follow." He looked to where his image was pointing, and saw the gray wolf waiting. He stepped toward the animal, as his own spirit spoke again. 

"The Guide without _his_ Sentinel is as crippled. The Guide will always guide others, but he will only truly _lead_ one. Be warned. Sentinel versus sentinel ends in draw. Guided sentinel versus sentinel, prevails." 

He thought he understood. If he fully accepted his Guide back into his soul, he could prevail against the enemy sentinel. However, he was just beginning to realize that she wasn't really his enemy. Yes, she was a threat, to him, his Guide, and his city, but she was a sentinel lost without a guide. If circumstances had been different, he might have found himself just as lost. Was she a criminal? Most definitely. Was she a murderer? Again, yes. Whether predisposed to it or driven to it, she would have to be tried for the crimes, but he couldn't condemn her for a primitive instinct such as seeking a guide. 

A low rumble drew his attention back. His spirit had morphed once again into the panther. The black cat was now standing, whole. Still shaken by the former image, he gulped, but a small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. The feline regarded him for a moment longer, then turned its head to look over its shoulder. Following the motion, his eyes fell on the wolf, still waiting. With another faint smile, he set out after the gray animal. 

The wolf led him steadily deeper into the woods, until they reached another clearing. In the center stood a large log cabin. With surprise, he recognized it. It was the same cabin the FBI had used as a safe house in their bungled efforts to capture the Russian assassin, Yuri, several months earlier. After that, the feds had pulled all their fancy equipment and sold the property to a rental agency. At least, he thought they had. Turning to thank the wolf, he found the animal grinning at him. 

He smiled, nodding in gratitude. "Thanks." 

Jim sighed and opened his eyes. He was momentarily startled by the strange surroundings. Memory returned quickly, however. He was in Daryl's room, in Simon's house. Glancing at the streak of sunshine streaming in under the curtain, he judged the time to be around 9:00 AM. A glance at his watch confirmed it. 

The Sentinel continued to lie in the strange bed, cataloguing the unfamiliar scents and sounds. When he heard Simon walk down the hall toward the kitchen, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up. After indulging in a thorough stretch, Jim picked up his shave kit and headed into the bathroom across the hall. 

Fifteen minutes later, showered, shaved, and dressed, he entered the kitchen to the smell of coffee, eggs, hash browns, and the sound of Simon's voice just finishing a phone conversation. 

"Morning, Jim. Hope I didn't make too much racket for you?" 

Ellison shook his head. "Morning. Surprisingly, I slept pretty soundly." 

"Good, glad to hear it. Have a seat. Eggs'll be ready in a bit. Help yourself to some coffee." 

"Thanks." Jim got himself a cup of the hot liquid, then sat down at the table. 

A couple minutes later Simon placed a plate in front of his guest. Two glasses of orange juice and another plate followed in quick succession. The police captain sat down behind the second plate and picked up his fork. 

"So, you slept pretty good, huh?" 

Jim nodded, taking a drink of juice. "Yeah. I'm surprised. I didn't think I'd sleep much, actually." 

"Well, you obviously needed it." 

The detective smiled slightly. 

A few minutes of companionable silence fell, as the two men continued with their breakfast. Simon broke it quietly by saying, "That was Cassie a while ago. The DNA results aren't in yet, but the blood on those syringes had Sandburg's type. They've managed to lift prints from the inside of the surgical gloves. Nothing turned up in our database, so they're now searching the FBI's. Cassie's best guess is the blood found was less than two hours old." 

Jim saw his friend watching closely for his reaction, but he simply nodded. "Good," he murmured. 

"You're surprisingly mellow this morning, Jim. What do you know that I don't?" 

Ellison smiled wryly. He shrugged, but before he could answer, the phone rang. 

With an annoyed glare at the device, the captain got up. "Banks. Yeah, Joel, what you got? Where?" 

Jim finished up his eggs, studiously ignoring the conversation. His crystal-blue eyes were now sparkling with anticipation. He looked up when Simon returned to his chair. 

"You listened?" 

With a slight shake of his head, the Sentinel replied, "No, though I gathered Joel and Megan found something?" 

"Yeah. Remember that cabin the feds used as a safe house a few months ago?" Jim nodded. "You'll also recall that they sold the property to a rental agency right after that fiasco. Well, one Alexia Barnett, aka Alexis Barnes, has been renting it for about six weeks now." 

Ellison nodded again. 

"Why do you look like you knew this already?" 

"Huh?" Jim pulled his wandering thoughts back. "Oh, I guess I did, in a way. Taggert was only confirming something I learned last night." 

"Do you mind elaborating?" 

Jim shook his head, a shy smile touching his lips. "I don't think you really want to know, Captain. This is one where Sandburg would be reaching for his notebook." 

The dark-skinned man frowned. "You're right, I don't wanna know." 

Silence returned, as Jim lost himself in thought. Finally, turning his gaze back to his superior, he found Simon had finished his own breakfast and was looking at him in concern. "Simon, how much leeway are you willing to give me?" 

"What do you mean? If you're talking about going in alone, with no backup, you can forget it." 

"Simon, when the time comes, I'll _have_ to face her by myself, you know that." 

"No, I _don't_ know that. What exactly are you saying?" 

Jim sighed, setting down his coffee cup. "Sir, this goes beyond the bounds of ordinary police work. As much as I hate to admit to it, this a sentinel thing. One sentinel against another. But, I won't be totally alone. Blair will be there." 

Banks gave him an exasperated snort. "You've said that before. How can you be so sure Sandburg's going to be in any kind of shape to help you?" 

The small smile returned to the detective's face. "Physically, he probably _isn't_ in any shape to help me, but he'll be backing me up, nonetheless. In fact, it's imperative that he does." Only he could hear the joyful cry of the gray wolf, and his blue eyes gleamed with a feral light. 

"Jim, I know I'm probably going to regret this, but please explain?" 

Jim looked at his superior. Nodding slightly, he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, as he thought how best to describe the barely describable. "It's hard to explain, Simon. It's definitely a sentinel thing, and an aspect I don't acknowledge very often." 

"Uh-huh. Go on." 

The Sentinel shifted in his chair. Choosing his words with care, he began. "A wolf has been guiding me toward my Guide since we fished him out of that fountain. Fortunately, I was open enough to listen to its call." His captain was staring at him as if he'd completely lost his mind, so he quickly finished. "When I told you I thought Blair might still be alive, the wolf was there--encouraging me. The wolf pointed me toward the snags in the sheet. And just now, when I said it was imperative that Blair help me, the wolf howled its approval." _Then there's the vision itself, but we won't go into that._

Banks continued to stare. He seemed on the verge of shouting his disbelief, but then he blinked. Rubbing a cupped hand over his forehead, he sighed. "I knew I was going to regret this. Okay, Jim. You know I don't understand this sentinel thing much, and don't really have any desire to. I know your instincts are usually dead-on when it comes to things like this. Be it phantom wolves or anthropologists, I'll accept your source of information. It's beyond my realm. But I still don't understand how Sandburg's going to be able to help you." 

"I don't quite understand it all myself, sir. What I do know, is that Blair will be here," Jim tapped his temple with a finger, "in my head, somehow. It's the only way I'll be able to defeat her." 

"You sound like this is going to be a battle royale. Why does it have to go that far? Why not just surround her, cuff her, and bring her in like any other criminal?" 

"I'll have to take her into custody, but first she has to be neutralized." His thoughts wandering back to his vision, he murmured distractedly, "Sentinel versus sentinel, ends in draw. Guided sentinel versus sentinel, prevails." 

"What does that mean?" Simon demanded. 

Ellison mentally shook himself and brought his attention back to his superior. A faint quirk touched his lips. "It means that if I don't confront her with my Guide, it'll never end, for me or my tribe." 

Simon didn't say anything. What could he say? He simply stared at the other man for a long moment. Finally, he blinked, and rubbed a hand over his forehead. 

"All right, Jim. How do you want to handle this?" The captain sounded resigned. 

Ellison chewed on the inside of his cheek while his brain ran through possibilities. "I'm going to make some calculated assumptions from what little I know of Alex. My hearing range is about half a mile, farther with Sandburg. I'm going to assume hers is about the same." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "We can bring in teams to just outside the half-mile mark. If I use a white-noise generator, I should be able to approach the cabin unnoticed." 

"But Jim, you'll be as deaf as she will be, if you use that." 

Jim nodded slightly. "Almost, but since Brackett, Blair and I have been practicing. I'm able to identify the null area created by the field. I can't hear through it, but I can hear around it. And since I'll already know where the field is, I'll be able to compensate with my other senses." 

Simon frowned in concern. "I don't like it, but it's probably our only hope of getting close to her on our terms, with an element of surprise." 

"We, sir?" 

"In case you've forgotten, I said you weren't going after her alone. I'm going in with you." The dark-skinned man held up a hand to forestall the protest. "Our people will stay the half mile away, as you suggested. Until you actually get inside, you'll need someone to watch your back, and unless you've suddenly decided to bring Connor in on your little secret, that means me." 

"Simon, I won't..."

"Normally, no, you wouldn't, but this isn't a normal situation. I'm not willing to risk you zoning, and despite what went down before, I don't think Sandburg would be too pleased with me if I let you do it. There's another reason. Instead of chancing things on a prearranged time for backup to come in, I can call them in when I think it's necessary. Is that acceptable?" 

Jim gave his superior his most sheepish smile, and nodded. 

"Good. Now, let's get this stuff cleaned up and get to the station. We have people to brief and things to set in motion." 

It was just past two-thirty in the afternoon when a silver Chrysler sedan turned slowly onto a weed-covered lane. It stopped at a signal from the passenger, barely ten feet from the turn off. 

Banks looked at his detective, who nodded. Tightening his full lips, Simon picked up the radio mike. "All right people. Just like we discussed. Sit tight and quiet, until I give you the signal to move in." 

They waited as the other pairs checked in with confirmation of their positions and instructions. An additional half-mile away, a SWAT team stood by. 

"Jim, you okay?" Simon inquired, as he returned the mike to its holder. 

The blue-eyed man nodded once, his gaze on the indistinct cabin. "Yeah." 

"What do you see?" 

"It's clear on this side. No sign of guards or any other look outs." Jim turned his head toward him. "Simon, I need to tell you something." 

He arched a questioning eyebrow. 

Jim took a deep breath. "I just want to forewarn you. When we step out of this car, I'll no longer be Jim Ellison, cop. I'll be Enqueri--the Sentinel." 

Simon studied his friend and best detective for a long moment. The man he saw sitting next to him was someone he'd never expected to meet. Somehow, the picture of a careworn and lost-looking soldier didn't quite reconcile itself with the cool, confident, physical presence of that same soldier in a full set of army fatigues. Banks wasn't easily intimidated or put off stride, but he found himself staring at the insignia patches on the sleeve with a new level of respect. Special Forces, Ranger, Airborne, the arrowhead, they were all there. The reminder of what Jim used to be, coupled with the sense of how easily he'd slipped back into the role of operative, told Simon just how seriously his man was taking this "mission". He looked up to meet crystal-blue eyes. He saw wry understanding reflected back at him. "Inquiri?" 

A faint smile. "Enqueri, sir. My Chopec name. I was their sentinel." 

"I remember now. What you're saying is that Jim Ellison and the Sentinel are two different people?" 

"At times they seem to be," Jim answered, turning his head away. "Most of the time I'm a cop who uses a gift, but sometimes...it can work the other way too. Sometimes it's better to let the Sentinel have control, and follow his instincts. Now, is one of those times." 

"If you say so." 

The smile returned. "Just trust me, Simon, and stay close until we get inside. You'll understand-and if you don't, Blair can explain--when this is over." 

Simon continued to gaze at him. He knew this man had abundant skills. He'd counted on those skills any number of times. If it weren't for Ellison and his unique background, senses as well as military training, he and his son wouldn't have made it out of Peru alive. He nodded. 

Jim returned the gesture, and reached for the door handle. He stepped lithely from the car. 

The two large men moved to the front of the vehicle. Simon immediately noticed the change. Jim's concentration seemed to intensify, his sharp eyes continually scanning, while his nostrils flared slightly. Apparently satisfied with the situation, Jim made a small jerk with his head, and started off into the underbrush. He followed closely, trying to move as silently as the ex-Ranger in front of him. 

They'd only gone a few yards when Ellison stopped, then froze. The man was so still, Simon worried that he'd zoned, but just as he was about to say something, Jim held up a cautionary finger. Relaxing, he waited. A moment later, Jim slowly eased his way back the way they'd come, gently pushing him back as well. When they were apparently at a safe distance, Jim stopped again, and pulled out a small metallic device. Banks realized it was one of Blair's white noise generators. The Sentinel flipped the switch. Simon saw him flinch. Jim handed him the device, then with a signal to remain silent, they were moving in the direction of the cabin once more. 

From tree to tree, bush to bush, they advanced stealthily. Simon found himself splitting his attention between watching Ellison's silent, catlike stalking, and simply keeping up. 

Ten minutes later, their advance ceased. They'd reached the edge of the clearing. Looking back at Jim, Simon recognized the subtle signs of the detective using his heightened senses, and he prepared to guard against a zone out if necessary. 

The Sentinel scanned the dwelling. He caught movement and zoomed in a little farther. His jaw muscles bunched as he recognized Alex moving around inside. She was pacing. He had been careful to bring them in downwind, and now he sniffed the air. Yes, there it was. His Guide was there, along with Alex. He frowned. The scent of another reached his sensitive nose. Sampling the air again, he analyzed the unfamiliar smell. After a moment, he recognized it. It was the scent of the person who had handled the syringes back at the University. He had originally intended to leave Simon here, but that was no longer an option. Normally, the former Ranger wouldn't have thought twice about dealing with two adversaries, but when one of those adversaries was a sentinel, he figured he'd need the backup. 

Jim turned his attention back to the woman pacing in the front room. She was on a cell phone. Concentrating, he filtered out the white noise behind him, and extended his hearing. What he heard torqued his jaw up one more notch. 

"...Good. Yeah, one at the University and one at Cascade Central Park. Good. Seven-thirty. Rainier has that Jazz on the Green tonight. Last for the season. And the park has that Fall Festival. It'll be perfect. No, I have that cop to take care of first. I still need the punk for a little while, so he's coming with. I'll dispose of him later. All right. Bye." 

Jim brought his attention back for a moment, to find Simon's hand resting on his arm. He acknowledged the captain's gesture with a nod. Seven-thirty? He checked his watch. Almost quarter after three. If his assumption was right, Alex had been talking about the nerve gas she'd stolen, and she'd set it to go off in a little over four hours. Filing that information for immediate retrieval, he extended his senses again. This time, he heard a male voice. It wasn't Sandburg's. He was telling Alex their patient was awake, again. There was a rustling of paper, then the faint squeak of springs. Apparently the man had made himself comfortable in a chair. The Sentinel tracked the woman's footsteps to the back of the dwelling. 

Pulling his attention back once more, Ellison scanned the clearing, plotting his approach. There was a large window along the front that they needed to avoid at all costs, but the north side of the cabin was unadorned by glass. Testing the breezes, he determined it would still be downwind. Silently admonishing Simon to remain quiet, he led them into the brush again, angling toward the north. Moments later they were in position. Jim took one more scan of the area. Satisfied, he darted toward the cabin. His captain was close on his heels and almost as silent. 

Jim concentrated on listening again. It was difficult to get past the white noise this time, because the field was so close to what he hoped to hear. Finally, he managed to pick out Alex's voice again. When he heard Blair's strong, but tired-sounding tenor, a wave of relief flooded him. A second later, his Guide's words registered, and his blood chilled. Blair was chastising her for pushing her hearing too hard, and giving herself a headache. He told her to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn down the dials. Jim's jaws clenched, and his face went stony. _"The Guide will always guide others, but he will only truly lead one,"_ he heard the voice of his spirit guide murmur. His jaw relaxed. Blair was just doing what came naturally to him-helping others. Besides, he was only coaching her through the basics, something that had become almost instinctive with Jim. 

A touch on his arm made him glance at Simon. The captain was giving him a concerned look, and he gave the man a nod. With a come along gesture, Jim edged his way around the corner of the building to the back. There was one window, and another could be seen through it that looked out on the other end of the cabin. From his oblique angle, Jim could just see the edge of a bed, and the legs of someone lying on it. He knew it was Blair. Bouncing his sight off the reflection in the other window, he watched Alex leave the room. When the door shut, he inched closer to the opening. The lower sash was just above waist-high. Easy. Double-checking the occupancy of the room, Ellison reached out to the glass. It was latched, but it was a simple lock and his boot knife quickly freed it. Applying pressure, he was gratified by its easy slide. Soundlessly, he eased the window all the way open. 

Turning back to Simon, Jim made a motion to move around front, held up five fingers, then closed his fist. Wait five minutes before moving in. Banks nodded his understanding, but waited until the detective pulled himself inside before moving. Jim gave the captain a thumbs up, then turned away. 

Silently, the ex-Ranger crept to the side of the bed, avoiding any loose floorboards with instinctual ease. He gazed down at his pale and worn-looking Guide. Indulging in a few brief moments of heightened sense awareness, he catalogued his friend's condition, relieved by what he found. Only years of training prevented Jim from grabbing the smaller man in a bear hug. 

Blair's eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping, but the Sentinel knew it was only a light doze. His heartbeat was strong, if a little slow, but his breathing was steady. Jim detected a hint of congestion developing, but nothing life-threatening for the time being. He reached out and touched Blair lightly on the shoulder. The other man's eyes slowly opened. The blue orbs gazed up at him in confusion for a moment, then widened in shocked recognition. Jim smiled, and nodded in confirmation to the question he could see in those eyes. His large hand swiftly covered his Guide's mouth as it opened to say something. He glanced toward the door to make sure Alex hadn't been alerted by Blair's suddenly thundering heart. When there was no immediate commotion, he turned back. Blair was still staring at him in wide-eyed wonder, almost as if he didn't believe his eyes. Jim smiled again, raising a finger to his lips. When the curly-headed man nodded slightly, he removed his hand. Taking his knife, he quickly cut the ropes binding his friend's ankles and wrists to the bed frame. 

Once that task was finished, he bent until his lips were almost touching Blair's ear, and breathed, "Can you move at all?" His answer was a raised hand and a weak shrug. "Okay. Don't worry. The weakness will pass." He heard his Guide's heart skip a beat, then a soft exhale of breath. "You weren't sure, huh?" Another head shake. Jim gripped his shoulder. "Chief?" An indrawn breath, an expectant silence. "I trust you." A ragged exhale. Jim straightened enough to look into Blair's face. The exhausted eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears, and a tremulous smile touched the sensuous mouth. The older man's lips twitched and his own blue eyes watered as he nodded reassuringly. He leaned close to his friend's ear again. "You know what I have to do, don't you? I have to take her down." Another nod. "Will you help me?" A nervous tremble. "Blair, you're my Guide, and though I don't deserve to be, I am your sentinel. I think I finally understand now, at least a little. Your choice. Sentinel against sentinel, ends in draw. Guided sentinel versus sentinel, prevails." Blair's heart skipped again, and when Jim met his gaze this time, it was wide with concern. The younger man swallowed. "I'm not asking you to choose between our lives, Chief. I don't want to kill her, and I won't if she gives me the option. I'm hoping you'll guide your sentinel again, and trust him one more time." The shoulder under his hand relaxed, and Blair nodded. He squeezed that shoulder gratefully. "Okay, when I give you the signal, call her in here." 

Jim straightened, moving swiftly and silently to stand beside the door. When he was in position, he looked back at Blair, and nodded. The younger man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. 

"Alex?" he called. "Can I have a drink of water?" 

A few moments later the blonde woman entered the room, carrying a glass of water. She stopped in her tracks, staring at her captive. "How did you get loose?" She spun around when she heard the soft click as the door latched closed. In stunned disbelief, she stared into the steely blue eyes of her rival. 

"Hello, Alex." His soft voice broke the momentary spell. 

Rage suffused her. Alex screamed in defiance, causing the other sentinel to cringe. Thinking she had the advantage, she threw the glass at his head, then launched herself at him. 

Jim hadn't expected the scream, but he instantly downed the dial. He saw the glass sail toward him, and ducked, but couldn't quite brace himself in time for Alex's impact. He went down, striking his head on the hard wooden floor. As he desperately tried to clear the sparkles from his vision, he caught the clawed fingers aiming for his face. He twisted, trying to gain a better hold on her arms, and received a knee in the groin for his efforts. With a groan, his grip involuntarily loosened, and the furious woman pulled herself free. Ellison rolled to his knees, trying to ignore the pain. 

"Turn it down, Jim. See the pain dial and turn it down." His Guide's voice cut through the haze. Automatically he responded. His vision cleared just in time to see Alex swinging something heavy at his head. He managed to deflect most of the blow, grabbing her around the waist. Overbalanced, they toppled over. Jim scrambled to pin her to the floor with his weight, but she kicked and squirmed. She got an arm free, reached back, found purchase and yanked on his hair. Ellison cursed. 

Knowing he had a hell-cat in his arms, Jim tried desperately to gain a better hold on her. He ignored the scratches she was inflicting. Alex threw back her head, connecting solidly with his mouth. He grunted almost soundlessly, tasting blood on the inside of his lip. Reflexively his grasp loosened, and with a tremendous effort, she wriggled free. Alex leaped to her feet. Jim rolled to his feet right behind her. She aimed a kick at his head. Ducking, he caught the deadly leg, flipping her to her back. She hit the floor with a pain-filled gasp, but she was up in an instant. She crouched, facing off with him. Jim eyed his opponent warily, always keenly aware of where Sandburg was positioned. 

The two circled, looking for a weakness, an opportunity. The ancient dance of one on one combat. Abruptly, Alex leaped into the air, lashing out with her feet again. Jim avoided the kick and tried to grab her. He managed to capture an arm, but before he could do anything else, Alex used his own arm as a fulcrum. Grasping his wrist, she pivoted and stiff-armed her palm into his face, then raked her nails across his cheek, barely missing his eye. While he was off balance she landed a kick to his stomach. The pain should have doubled him over, but a grunt was all that came from him. To her surprise and fury, he captured her next kick, and sent her to the floor again. She wasn't as quick to get up this time, but she rolled and was on her feet before he could press his advantage. 

Jim studied the female sentinel, alert for her next move. He knew he was at a bit of a disadvantage. He didn't want to hurt her, but his opponent was intent on maiming or even killing him. Not a good scenario. _No, I don't want to hurt her, I want to kill her for what she did to Sandburg._ But he sensed a greater purpose than killing in this confrontation. She seemed to be slightly winded, while he had barely broken a sweat, and he'd been doing all the dodging. _Hmm._

Her attention seemed to wander for a moment. Jim crouched, sweeping one leg out. Caught by surprise, Alex's legs went out from under her and she hit the floor hard. She lay stunned. Just as Jim reached for her, she surged up. He was ready, having sensed her muscles poised to spring. In the blink of an eye Jim caught her wrist, pivoted, and pinned her arm behind her back. Alex yelped in pain. Despite this, she kicked his shin, hoping to gain her freedom once more. He answered her with a soft grunt, and twisted her other arm behind her back. She was immobilized. An injudicious move on her part or an increase in pressure on his, and something would end up broken or dislocated. 

"No! I won't let you have him!" Alex screamed in frustration. "He's mine!" 

The air seemed to shimmer for a moment. The bedroom and cabin disappeared. In their place was a jungle clearing. Jim gasped silently in recognition. He hadn't expected this, though after the vision and the wolf, he knew he probably should have. In front of him, he could hear Alex's heart pounding as she stared around in confusion. He could smell the fear beneath her anger and defiance. 

Not far away were the temple ruins where he had met his animal spirit. The panther was there now, at the base of the platform, holding a jaguar cornered. On the raised dais, looking bemused, shocked, and unsure, Blair stood. The gray wolf was beside him. The Guide turned his attention toward them, and his demeanor changed. Jim could tell he'd grasped where he was, and apparently knew why he was there. 

"Alex, stop." Blair's voice was quiet, but carried the full force of a command. 

The woman quit struggling and glared at the curly-headed man. Jim glanced at his friend nervously, but returned his attention to keeping the other sentinel subdued. With both animal spirits and his Guide present, he realized something powerful was about to happen, though he didn't know what. To further add to his anxiety, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he sensed the presence of something or someone else. 

It was obvious Alex felt something too, for she kept turning her head, trying to find the source of her nervousness. Finally, she stopped, and stared at Blair. "I saw how he was looking at you. He was trying to take you from me, but you're mine." 

The young shaman gently shook his head. "No, Alex. He was protecting me, whereas you were trying to possess me, like a piece of property." 

"But you're _my_ guide now. He doesn't need you anymore. I do." 

A look of profound sadness crossed Blair's face. "Alex, you don't understand. This Sentinel-Guide thing...it's for life. Once the bond has been formed, and the choice made, it can't be reneged on. I made my choice two years ago. I thought Jim had made his a few months ago." Dark blue eyes sought and found guilty crystal-blue orbs. 

Jim looked at his friend and Guide, nodding in affirmation. Blair shot him a faint smile. 

"Jim and I, we've had our differences--who doesn't?--we're only human. And even though Jim fights his senses from time to time, and often won't admit to needing me, we always work through our problems together. That's what it's all about. Without each other, we're only half as effective. We're crippled." 

Jim flinched at hearing the same words his spirit guide had used. He realized the truth in them now. 

"But, what about me?" Alex demanded. "You helped me. I thought that meant you were offering to be my guide." 

Blair's expression turned regretful. "I'm really sorry about that. I only wanted to help you, maybe even study you. After all, you're only the second full sentinel I've ever found. I couldn't pass up the opportunity, and when you so obviously needed help, well...I'm a Guide. I couldn't let a lone sentinel suffer. If I'd known what was going to happen, if I'd known Jim was being so surly because he was sensing another sentinel in our city...." The young shaman shook his head. 

"You wouldn't have helped me," Alex said matter-of-factly. 

Again Blair shook his head, this time emphatically. "No, I still would've helped you, I just would've gotten my sentinel to help _me_." 

"Well, isn't that just noble of you," the woman sneered, attempting to break out of her rival's hold. 

Jim had been alert for any such attempt, and easily subdued her with a little added pressure to her bent arms. She gasped in pain, and cursed, but ceased struggling. 

"So, what now?" she asked. 

Blair spoke, interrupting anything his partner had been about to say. "Now, as much as I hate the loss, we neutralize you." 

"He's a cop, you can't just kill me." 

"I didn't say anything about killing you." Blair's gaze filled with regret. "You'll get your day in court, don't worry. But, the sentinel will be no more." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I almost feel sorry for you." 

"Why?" Alex questioned. 

"To have hyperactive senses and no one to help you deal with them." Blair shuddered. "I remember what Jim was going through when I met him." 

"Then you should understand why I need you as my guide." 

"Oh, I understand," the Guide said softly. "But you lack the one thing Jim has in spades. Any sentinel should--must have--compassion. That alone prevents me from feeling sorry for you. Compassion is the one thing outside the five senses that allows a sentinel to fulfill his or her ordained role. Without it, a sentinel is nothing more than a tyrant. 

"Coping with your senses alone, without a guide, is no excuse. Despite the headaches, you seemed remarkably well adjusted to your senses, almost cavalier actually. Jim would, and almost did, eat his gun before he'd let himself hurt anyone if his senses drove him mad." 

Alex made a rude noise, cursing when her captor's grip tightened a fraction. Jim remained silent, keeping most of his attention on the woman, but listening with pride to Sandburg's words. 

"No, Alex. Don't think Jim is weak because of his compassion. He has killed, many times, and he regrets every one. His compassion is what keeps him human. 

"You, however, are a cold-blooded murderer, with no regrets. After I helped you gain some control over your senses, you just used your abilities to continue your crime spree. Apparently, all I did was make you a better criminal." 

"And I thank you for that," Alex interjected. 

"That's what I mean. No regrets. I don't think you ever had a compassionate bone in your body." Blair shook his head, and sighed. "Well, no more. For the misuse of your abilities in stealing, murder, the attempted murder of another sentinel, and the attempted murder and kidnapping of that sentinel's Guide, it is now my duty as Shaman, to strip you of the gift." 

Jim felt something in the air begin to shift. Nervously, he glanced around the clearing. The woman he held bound trembled, and he knew she felt it too. Looking back to the altar, he thought he saw the image of Incacha and other Indian shaman hovering around his friend, but the impression was fleeting. Swallowing, Jim stared at his friend with surprise, and a touch of awe. Standing here, listening to him, he'd had an inkling of what his Guide intended, but no idea Blair had that kind of power, much less knew how to use it. Now, feeling his skin tingle, as the power gathered, he watched as the younger man closed his eyes and began to chant. Tearing his eyes away, he glanced down at the wolf to see the animal leaning against Blair's legs, its blue-gold eyes fastened on the woman he held immobilized. After a moment, Jim felt Alex stiffen, and looked down at her. 

"What are you doing? No! You can't!" she screeched. 

Jim winced at the noise, but held firm. 

"I can, and I did," Blair said simply, exhaustion coloring his words. "Your heightened senses have been neutralized." 

Ellison blinked, and found himself back in the cabin, barely holding onto a struggling Alex. Shaking off the after-images of the vision, Jim quickly pulled out his cuffs. Grunting as her latest kick connected with his shin, he wasted no further time clicking the metal bracelets around her wrists. 

"Jim!" 

He looked up to see Simon standing in the doorway. He gave his superior a tired smile. "Hey, Simon. Her friend taken care of?" 

Banks nodded, eyeing his detective warily. "I've called backup in. How's it going in here? You look like you've gone ten rounds with an angry cat." 

Ellison reached up a sensitive hand to the scratches on his face. "Under control, sir. I don't think Alex will be doing any sentinel tricks from now on." 

"Oh?" The captain's tone conveyed a myriad of unasked questions in that single word, as he looked at the sullen woman his detective held. 

"Her senses have been nullified." Jim was grateful when Simon didn't press for further details. Instead, he busied himself with Mirandizing his prisoner, then glanced at his watch. He was surprised to see only ten minutes had transpired from when he'd entered the bedroom. He turned the woman over to his superior then moved to his partner, still supine on the bed. 

"How is he, Jim?" 

The Sentinel reached out a gentle hand to his Guide's forehead, unaware of the tender smile that graced his lips. He automatically made note of the other man's pallor. His vitals were strong. The heartbeat was steady, his breathing even. "Unconscious, but basically unharmed," he answered, before Simon could question him again. "He'll need to go to the hospital to get checked out. He's still weak." 

"I'll call an ambulance," Simon said, just as the backup arrived. 

Jim straightened. "It'll be faster to take him in your car." 

"But he's unconscious." 

"I know the reason for that, sir. It's nothing they'll be able to explain. By the time we get back to town, I should have him awake." 

Banks looked skeptical, but let it go. The Sentinel was back in charge, protecting his Guide. 

"How's Sandy?" Megan Connor's voice interrupted their little tableau. Jim spared her a glance, then looked past her into the other room. He smiled faintly at Joel, Rafe and Brown who had wisely stayed back. They'd known simply by looking at Ellison's face that Sandburg was okay. 

"He's going to be fine. Jim and I are going to take him to the hospital to have him checked out. Take her out of here," Simon directed, pushing the woman toward the inspector. 

"Just a minute, Simon." Jim stepped closer to their prisoner. "The nerve gas, Alex. Who's your partner? He's going to place the canisters for you, isn't he?" 

She sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know, detective? I don't have to say anything, remember?" 

Jim smirked, nodding slightly. Turning his attention to Simon, he said, "She's had one canister placed in Cascade Central Park, and one at Rainier. They're to go off at seven-thirty tonight." 

"The jazz concert and the Fall Festival. Full of people. Perfect places to release a nerve toxin." Banks scowled, and he began barking orders. 

Blair's eyes slowly opened, blinking owlishly in the dim light. Finally, the white ceiling came into focus. _Hospital._ He looked up at the IV bags hanging on the pole, following the tubes to his hand. Automatically, his gaze drifted to the other side. A lump rose in his throat when he discovered Jim sitting in the chair, asleep. He could barely describe the emotions that flooded him at sight of Ellison. Relief. Love. Fear. Anger. Love. Relief. They kept circling around in his head. 

"Jim?" he breathed. 

The other man roused. "Hey, Chief." Blair smiled tiredly, meeting his friend's eyes as Jim leaned forward to grasp his hand. 

"Did we do what I think we did?" 

Jim gave him a boyish grin. "If you're talking about the fight I had with another sentinel, and about how my shaman stripped her of her abilities at the temple ruins, then yeah, we did." 

"Okay. Thought I might have dreamt it all." He smiled. "Wow, that was some trip." 

Jim nodded in wholehearted agreement. "Yeah. I had no idea you could do that." 

"Huh, I didn't either. Most of it was the wolf, though." The younger man cocked an eyebrow at his friend. "There was a wolf, wasn't there?" 

"Yeah, buddy, there was most definitely a wolf. Must be your animal spirit." 

Blair's eyes wandered back to the ceiling, not hearing his friend, as his attention drifted to darker thoughts. "So, did you catch the guy in the cabin with Alex? What about the nerve gas?" 

"Yeah, Simon got him. He surrendered without a fight when he realized Alex wasn't going to come to his rescue. The nerve gas was found before it was set to be released. We actually got lucky for once. One of the uniforms spotted someone suspicious near where one of the canisters was found. It turned out to be Alex's partner. He had the triggering device on him. He's at the station now giving a full confession. Seems he doesn't want to take the fall alone." 

Blair nodded. "That's good." He scratched absently at his jaw, encountering heavy stubble. "Hey, d'you suppose I could get one of those pretty nurses to give me a shave?" 

Jim chuckled quietly. Blair definitely had the misfortune of requiring two shaves a day, especially if he planned to go on a date. After nearly two days, he had a good start on a heavy beard. "I think that can be arranged, Chief," Jim said with an amused smile. 

Blair grinned, but it quickly faded. His mind was still caught up in the nightmare of events just past. "So, now what happens with Alex?" His eyes darted to Jim when he heard the other man sigh. 

"She's been remanded into federal custody since her list of crimes extends across the country; robbery, murder, and now kidnapping." 

Blair nodded, swallowing uncomfortably. "Will I have to testify?" 

Another sigh. "Maybe. It all depends on how much her two accomplices know and are willing to divulge, and on what kind of plea bargain they can arrange." 

The anthropologist closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A familiar hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up into the concerned blue eyes of his friend, and smiled weakly. His eyes soon found the ceiling again, his thoughts taking another dark turn. "Jim, why'd you come after me?" 

"What kind of question is that, Chief? Why wouldn't I come after you?" 

He turned a disgusted gaze on his friend, his eyes flashing anger. "Just give me a straight answer, Jim. You cut me loose, remember? Said you needed somebody you could trust. You should have thought I was dead. Why'd you come after me?" 

Jim's face turned to stone for a moment. "Didn't you want me to?" he choked out. "Wasn't that message at the lab for me?" 

Blair gasped, clamping his eyes tightly shut. Despite his best efforts, tears leaked out. "Yes. Damnit. But--I didn't know if you'd know. If you'd even care...." His voice was barely above a whisper. 

Jim's grip tightened, and Blair opened his eyes. Jim's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I care, Chief. I care," the big man said raggedly. "Never have I been more aware of how callously I've treated you these last few weeks, than when I realized Alex had faked your death. Sorry isn't going to begin to cover this, but I really am." 

"What tipped you off?" 

A soft sound, like a half chuckle. "Several things, really. First, my senses didn't go haywire. I guess deep down, part of me knew you weren't dead. Second, there was an odd smell at the fountain when we found you. I know now it was the drug Alex gave you. Third, her scent was in the morgue, and I realized she'd stolen your body before Dan could perform the autopsy-thank God. Last, but not least, that wolf of yours kept showing up when I even half-guessed right. Each time his expression got a little less guarded and a little more expectant. When I finally put all the pieces together, he literally grinned at me, and cried his approval." 

"I'm surprised you listened to him," Blair said pointedly, seeing Jim wince, and almost regretting his words. Almost. 

"Yeah, well, after a few dreams where I kill the panther, to wake up the next morning with cotton stuffed in my ears, I'm not about to ignore one where I kill a wolf and it turns out to be you." 

"What?" He stared at his friend in shock. He watched as Jim's jaw muscle twitched. The older man nodded, sitting back in the chair, and rubbing a hand over his forehead. Blair continued to stare, silently urging him to explain. 

A heavy sigh. Quietly, reluctantly, Jim spoke. "It...It was after I was shot, before I knew about Alex for sure. I was in the jungle. At the ruins. A wolf approached as I was looking at them. I--shot it with a crossbow. It looked at me with the most piteous expression, whining...." Jim swallowed. His voice shook as he continued, "As the light faded from its eyes, it...morphed into you." The big man dropped his head. 

"Oh, Jim," Blair moaned in sympathy. 

"I woke up in a cold sweat. I didn't know what it meant." 

"Were you ever gonna tell me?" 

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I did go to the campus, thinking we could talk about stuff, but I sensed Alex in your office. Then I saw that jaguar leap through your door. I just left. You know what happened after that." 

Blair's brow furrowed as several thoughts swirled in his head. "Jaguar? You saw a jaguar?" His friend nodded. "You sensed Alex in my office?" Another affirmative. "This was the day I came h-back to the loft to find my stuff packed?" A look of pain and another nod. "That wasn't the first time you'd seen the jaguar, was it?" 

"No." Jim whispered, shaking his head. "I--"

"The robbery! That's why you got shot! Isn't it? You saw the jaguar when you were making that bust, and got distracted." 

The older man gave him a crooked smile. "Yeah, Darwin. You got it in one." 

Blair groaned, closing his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Jim, man, do you realize if you'd told me about that in the beginning, most of this might've been avoided?" 

"Yeah," the other man agreed quietly. 

Blair opened his eyes again, and looked at the slouched figure in the chair. "At a minimum, if I'd known about the jaguar when I heard about Alex, I would've known my sentinel had sensed her. I would've also tried a hell of a lot harder to tell you about her, instead of letting you shut me out." His voice was tinged with bitter regret. 

"Probably, but then your sentinel wouldn't have learned a hard lesson." Jim raised his head to meet Blair's eyes. 

"What lesson is that?" 

"To trust my Guide, no matter the appearances." 

Blair's eyes narrowed speculatively, unsure what Jim might be referring to. "What do you mean?" 

A tiny smile quirked the corners of the older man's lips. "I had a vision last night." 

"And?" 

"This one involved the panther and the wolf. Only, there was something wrong with my animal spirit." 

"Wrong? What was wrong?" _What could possibly be wrong with an animal spirit?_

"He was missing two limbs. He couldn't stand, let alone walk. He was crippled." Jim met his partner's gaze. 

Blair's eyes widened in shock. "Then what happened?" 

The big man inhaled and exhaled raggedly. "He told me I had kept the gift, but ripped the Guide from my side. I had crippled myself." 

The young shaman nodded in complete understanding. 

"He asked me if I trusted my Guide. When I told him yes, he asked even if my Guide appears to be leading another." Ellison swallowed. "Again I answered yes. He told me to follow, and showed me where the wolf was waiting. Just before I followed the wolf, he said, 'The Guide without _his_ Sentinel is as crippled. The Guide will always guide others, but he will only truly _lead_ one.' I've never felt so humbled, Chief. I don't know why I can't seem to accept this sentinel thing and go with it." 

Sandburg laughed softly at this, but there were tears in his eyes. "It's because you're a cop, Jim. You deal in cold facts. Anything smacking of the esoteric makes you feel uneasy, like you're not in control," he explained. "He was right, you know." 

"What?" 

"Your spirit guide was right. I was just as crippled. Any time you shut me out, especially this time, I feel totally lost. Like a ship in a storm without an anchor. It's scary, man. And it makes me feel utterly useless." 

Jim shut his eyes in shame. "I know, Blair. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish I'd learn to trust when my senses are giving me warning signals, instead of brushing them off as nothing." 

"Yeah, and I wish you'd learn to tell me about these 'warning signals' more often, so I could help you." Blair cast his partner an arch look and added, "This is a classic example of what I termed your 'fear-based' reactions. You sensed a threat, based on the fear that I, and maybe even your city, was in danger. You acted on it. Perfectly logical. That's how you should react. But it would help if you'd clue your _Guide_ into these episodes." 

"I know, Chief. I know." 

"Of course, after you accused me of being in your face all the time, I quit pushing you for answers to what was going on in your head." Blair rambled, his thoughts taking him on a darkening tangent. "Maybe I should have kept pushing? I don't know. Maybe if I'd been more alert, more observant..."

"Sandburg...Blair." 

Sandburg's monologue halted, and he turned uncertain eyes to his friend. "Yeah?" 

"You're babbling." 

He swallowed, nodding in acknowledgment. His fingers absently plucked at the lint on the blanket. 

"Chief, I know what a hardass I can be when it comes to dealing with this sentinel thing. I'm sorry I accused you of being in my face all the time. That hasn't been true, since before we went to Peru. I knew at the time that came out all wrong, but I couldn't seem to find the right words to apologize. Now, I'm not making any guarantees. I might still be a jerk about this sometimes, but I can promise to try to do better in the future." 

Blair listened silently to his partner's speech, a tiny seed of hope flaring in his chest. "Is there going to be a future?" He saw Jim freeze, then slowly turn uncertain crystal-blue eyes to meet his darker blue ones. 

"I-thought-I hope so," the big man said softly. "I hope you're still willing to be my Guide." 

"Is that all?" Blair hated asking for what should be obvious, but he had to hear the words. 

For once, the ex-military, hard-nosed cop seemed to understand what was wanted. "I need you, Blair. Jim Ellison, and the Sentinel, need you. You're my friend, my partner, my Guide. Please, will you move back--home?" 

He closed his eyes, relief washing over him. Tears threatened to escape from under his lashes again, tears of joy. He smiled. "Thanks, man. I needed to hear that." 

"You're welcome. Well?" 

Blair looked at his partner, seeing the still unsure expression on his unusually open face. His smile widened into a grin. "Yeah, Jim. I'll come home." _Home. Such a sweet word._ "Thanks." 

He was rewarded with Ellison's own beautiful smile. 

finis

* * *

I love feedback! [_kandacek_](mailto:kandacek@skeeter63.org)


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